Sick! Been wantin’ to write to y’all, but I’ve feel like I’m recovering from being hit by a bus… A bus that makes me sweat, then freeze, have the most fun delirious thoughts, not eat, and hate everything.
What better time to write?! Stuck in bed and looooopy!
Jeeze, Beatrice needs extra postivity today because I’ve told her, “I hate everything…. I hate everyone except you….” about 75 times in the last 4 days.
I’ve been fightin’ the funk for 2 weeks. ACV every day. Garlic every day. Vitamins, good diet, and Zyrtec every day. Plenty of physical activity. But I think this past week of hellacious children just wore me down. Tuesday night my shoulders were hunched up to my earholes and I was achy. Wednesday night I couldn’t sleep, and I sweat like a pig. Thursday was the Thunder game.
Damn. I was excited about this. I bought a ticket the day they went on sale. Just knew I’d have a crew.
I love basketball. I love OK. It shoulda been awesome.
But it was just okay.
Everyone had their own plans, and I was the tagalong.
I felt like shit all day and after school, so it took me a long time to finally push my ass out the door and all the effort I could muster to hail a cab.
My seat was solo, and I needed more Thunder fans around me (for protection). Luckily, the lackofinterest from last summer was there with his new (official) girlfriend. YEA! And they invited me to sit with them! NEAT!
I had a fever by this point, and was texting the gusband, “I hate everything!”
Regardless, I played musical chairs for a while, and I had an okay time, but I really felt like THEshit and was dreading the 7 am school day looming ahead.
The school day was pretty good on Friday until the last period.
It was a group I’ve had before that were so terrible I refused to sub for them again the following day. The sub they ended up having also refused to ever sub for them again. They are embarrassing to their entire grade level.
Also, it was a math class (I don’t count so good), and the teacher was unexpectedly ill; so there were no plans… total chaos.
I told them at the beginning, “This is your chance to redeem yourself, transform my 1st impression of you, change your reputation. I’ve got some worksheets for you. Just do them quietly and chill out. I don’t feel well, and I’m not raising my voice. Please.”
I barely got the words out before kids were shouting, “I’m not doin’ shit,” and “We don’t have a bad reputation,” and “What time is class over?”
They were insanely loud and ridiculous. Not all, of course, but most.
Class is always over at 2:47, so at 2:46 I packed my computer, walked toward the door, turned off the lights, and left.
Stunned teenagers shrieked. And I just walked.
Now, that was NOT my best moment. That is NOT what I should’ve done. But we’re not in KansasOklahoma anymore, and my co-workers and administration support me. I technically did nothing wrong. And this class needs a clue.
So… then I coached a pretty good cheer practice (yep, I’m doing that again, and it requires its own post).
And I came home…
And just flopped.
I went straight to bed with the Bea. I sent some texts saying I would be sitting out St. Pat’s and the entire weekend.
Slept and sweat from 8:30 pm to 8:30 am.
Bathed in ACV and hot water until I was freezing? So weird.
Fell asleep at 5:30 pm. Awoke at 5:30 am to close my bedroom window because a group of people were seemingly having a laughing contest outside.
Slept until 8:30 am and actually felt okay enough to walk Beatrice.
I still haven’t eaten anything since yesterday’s bagel with almond butter at 1:30 (over 24 hours ago), but I do believe I’m on the mend.
Attempting some gentle yoga today with no inversions to release a lil’ more stress in my chest and back.
***
Luck! I think I may have actually had it this year. Sure, yesterday when I hated everyone except Beatrice, I thought, “Man, St. Pat’s sucks!”
I mean, remember this story and this one?
And then again, this exact time last year I was on my way to Salida for some good bandluck… (Jesus, the fever-induced delirious dreams are NOT letting me forget that)
But ya know what? I didn’t spend a dime all weekend. I didn’t drink empty calories. I didn’t make bad decisions. And my fridge is fully stocked for the week ahead because I didn’t eat anything! Pretty good timing considering I’m a lil’ nervous about the next paycheck.
It’s like I got a free pass for the weekend for being a hermit in hibernation!
But…………. I still had internet access.
And I discovered that the only real boyfriend I had in my 20s, the only other real boyfriend I’ve ever had besides this one, got married yesterday.
This was a bad relationship. I was in it because someone wanted to be my boyfriend. And call himself my “boyfriend.” And it lasted over 4 years. But it was bad after 4 months. It was the longest relationship I had ever had at 6 months. It was not good, but it was what it was.
I’m not actually upset that he’s married. I am worried about the wife (I know her, and I know he’s no different than he used to be).
It just comes back to, “Why not me?”
I was never ever going to marry him. He was an alcoholic who waited 3 of those 4 years to ever say he loved me.
I feel sorry for the wife.
But why do gross people get to do this thing I want to do?
***
Funny! The high school reunion that formed in the wake of this opened my eyes and got me motivated to get out of that relationship.
We dated and lived together throughout the majority of my college career. I was a recluse for almost 5 years. The “reunion” put me in my social element without him. It put me around people I hadn’t seen in years. It put me back in high school, but now looking better (with eyebrows and good hair), around all of the “upper classmen.”
Guys noticed me. And I liked it. They had jobs and weren’t alcoholics.
It’s like the curse was broken. And (albeit 6 months later) I broke up with the dude dud.
The problem that I’m dealing with is that I keep meeting the wrong men/men like him.
2 boyfriends in 30 years?
Okay. That’s fine. But I’m ready to meet the boyfriend who wants to date me for the next 30 years.
Let’s get this party started.
If it doesn’t happen soon (i.e. 7 years), I’m gonna have to have a baby with a platonic life-partner, and that’s gonna be really hard to explain to my family.
Whit
Damned Scribbling Woman 
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